


On the Perks and Perils of Cooking Pasta

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [23]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Tower, Cooking, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Real Events, M/M, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:44:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Aw, pasta," comes from behind Bucky and he turns his head to find Clint there, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "I'll get the med kit," he says and turns on his heels.</p><p>"Nah, it's fine," Bucky returns.</p><p>Damn, Clint being suddenly so close has startled him, that's why his heart is currently rabbiting in his chest. No other reason. None whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Perks and Perils of Cooking Pasta

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone :)  
> Many thanks to [Hraf](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hrafnsvaengr/pseuds/Hrafnsvaengr) for the idea and the beta on this one. Also dedicated to Hraf because pasta is dangerous. *shakes head*  
> Thank you for reading! o/  
> ~  
> Some news on Nameless: the week before last was so incredibly crappy, that I have spend this past week trying to recover from that. So all I've managed to write has been fluff. Here's some of it :)

It's been eight months since Bucky has decided he is indeed Bucky. Two more since avenging has driven Steve and Sam back to New York and, by extension, Bucky. Yes, he'll admit, Stark's tower is an impressive feat of technology, one Bucky's taking great pleasure of exploring. However, being this deep inside an urban area, he's also more likely to be discovered. So he's been more or less stuck inside. At times it feels like he's about to crawl up the walls.

Tonight is no different, but he's found something to do while browsing online on his phone, in an attempt to appease his hunger for something else other than leftovers.

Spaghetti carbonara it is.

For some reason the name of the dish calls to him.

That's why he's now hissing in pain, because he has endeavored to strain the pasta right out of the boiling pot by using a lid. As the website has explained. He should've looked harder for a strainer.

"Aw, pasta," comes from behind Bucky and he turns his head to find Clint there, looking over Bucky's shoulder. "I'll get the med kit," he says and turns on his heels.

"Nah, it's fine," Bucky returns.

Damn, Clint being suddenly so close has startled him, that's why his heart is currently rabbiting in his chest. No other reason. None whatsoever.

"You're not fine, that needs cared for, or it will get infected."

_ Cared for _ , he says. Bucky shivers at the thought. He's been sweet on this disaster of a sniper ever since that night they've spent shooting each other's weapons in the range. It would be incredible to be cared for by Clint. That's the only reason why Bucky lets Clint grab him by the back of his shirt, drag him to the sofa, and sit him down.

"Stay," Clint tells Bucky, index finger pointing and all.

Bucky watches him run off, and he's tempted to disobey. He'd be healed in a few hours anyway, but when Clint returns with a large first aid kit, clear intent and concern on his face, Bucky doesn't have the heart to push his attention away.

So he watches Clint as he works, enjoying this closeness. Clint's very good at observing things, as long as he's doing such from afar. He has yet to notice Bucky's admittedly awkward flirting attempts, to the amusement of Natasha and Sam, who Bucky is sure have a bet running. Pha. The punks.

With an internal sigh, Bucky turns his attention back to Clint's face, watches the shade of his eyelashes against its businesslike set. Despite everyone, Clint himself included, joking on how terrible Clint is under the pressure, he's actually even calmer than Natasha in urgent situations.

One of these days he's going to have to say something to Clint. He counts himself lucky that Clint seems to like him back, and Bucky prays he isn't mistaken in his assumptions.

Something stings, and Bucky hisses at the touch of unguent that Clint is applying.

"Sorry," Clint says, "but I gotta do this."

The sensation repeats, driving another sound out of Bucky, despite his best attempts to stifle it.

"Sorry, sorry," Clint repeats, biting his lower lip.

Bucky smiles. This is nothing, but he warms at how Clint cares. "You know, a kiss might make it hurt less," he says with a chuckle.

Clint blinks at him, eyes wide, but then he laughs, shaking his head.

Ah, come on!

Given, Bucky hasn't intended on the flirting, but still. Clint misunderstands again and Bucky inhales slowly.

Maybe tomorrow will be more fortuitous for his wooing.

~

Alas, the next week unwinds without Bucky managing to talk to Clint further, between an Avenger call and a SHIELD mission that sends Clint away for a few days. Actually, he's supposed to return tonight, Bucky's been waiting for him. That's why he's fallen asleep on the living room sofa.

And that's why he now jumps to his feet at the sound of a loud "Fuck you, macaroni!"

The clock on his phone shows 3:12 AM while Bucky scrambles into the kitchen.

There, he finds Clint trying to wrap gauze around his right hand while using his left and his teeth. In the sink, a pot sits bottom up, surrounded by boiled pasta bits. Bucky wants to snort a laugh, but he catches himself in time.

Instead, he shifts closer, taking the gauze from Clint's hand and inspecting the burn.

"What happened here?" he asks.

"Decided that making macaroni at 3 AM was a brilliant idea," Clint returns. "It's not."

"I can see that," Bucky says with a smirk that causes Clint to roll his eyes at him.

They don't say much more while Bucky patches Clint's hand up, in a mirror setting of the previous week.

"There you go," Bucky pats Clint's wrist gently after he's finished, then he pushes Clint's hand back at him on top of the kitchen table.

"What, no kiss to make it better?" Clint asks, amusement dancing on his face.

He's clearly joking, expecting Bucky to laugh and wave it off, but Bucky's been trying to catch Clint's attention for too long to let this opportunity escape. It's not how he's been imagining a first kiss between them would happen, but he tells himself _'fuck it'_ and raises from his chair.

He places a peck on Clint's cheek, then leans back up to be faced with Clint's utter surprise. His mouth is moving soundlessly as he stares at Bucky, and Bucky winks.

"You know," he says, "that's more efficient if applied at least twice a day."

"The burn cream?" Clint asks.

Bucky laughs despite himself.

"No, sweetheart, the kiss," he returns and then he steps away to repack the med kit.

Behind him, Clint is quiet and still. It starts worrying Bucky, that maybe he's about to be rejected, the feeling increasing with each second of silence. So he grabs the kit and walks out of the kitchen to put it back in Clint's room, where it usually sits. It's the least he can do since Clint's injured, might be very tired after his mission as well.

"Does it work better if it's on the lips?" Clint's voices comes from the doorway and Bucky turns.

Clint's cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. He looks... hopeful.

It makes Bucky smile, wider than he's smiled in a long time.

"A lot better, but only if applied at least ten times a day," he says.

Clint's returning smile is small, but it reaches his eyes in a way that brightens his entire face. "Only ten?"

"I could be convinced." Bucky grins and then Clint grins, but he's still standing there a little awkwardly. "Come here," Bucky beckons, waving a hand, and Clint follows suit.

Soon, he can wrap his arms around Clint. His breath is almost stuck in his throat, heart fluttering behind his ribs, but Clint's just as nervous, given how he shivers before pushing himself up on the balls of his feet. Bucky meets him half way.

Something settles in his chest as their lips touch, and slide, and touch, and nip. Clint's fingers are gripping tightly at the front of Bucky's shirt and Bucky finds his own trembling where they're pressing into Clint's back.

It's divine.

It seems cooking pasta after midnight has both its perks and perils.

But it's all worth it.

Clint smiles beautifully when they break apart, and Bucky's belly flops with joy.

"How about some tortellini?" Bucky offers. "With cheese."

"Aw, pasta," Clint returns, crestfallen as he cradles his hurt hand between their chests.

Bucky laughs. "We'll order it from the cafeteria on the eighth floor."

Clint cheers up at that. "Are they open all night?"

"Mhm," Bucky hums, before leaning in for another kiss.

It's equally incredible this time as well, and Bucky loses himself in how Clint feels against him, against his lips. But Clint's stomach gives a loud growl a few seconds later, and they both laugh at it, foreheads bumping.

"Let's feed you and then how about getting some sleep?" Bucky asks as he guides Clint out of the room, an arm around Clint's shoulders.

"Sounds good," Clint returns. "But..."

"Hm?"

"Stay with me?" Clint whispers.

This is it. _This_ is the thing that has started everything, this understanding of each other, of what they've been through, and how to handle the effects of it.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he says, pulling Clint closer against him.

"I like that. Sweetheart."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

And Bucky can't stop smiling.

~End~


End file.
